


dont't just stand there and shout it

by deadslut



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, The Ladder Scene (Hannibal), the ladder scene two: electric boogaloo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadslut/pseuds/deadslut
Summary: When Hannibal brings up the topic of loneliness during one of their sessions, Will decides to twist the conversation to his advantage and uses some more unconventional means of getting Hannibal to trust him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133





	dont't just stand there and shout it

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in season 2, after Will gets out of jail but idk exactly where
> 
> title is from [Judas by Depeche Mode](https://youtu.be/hDJUjfBPkIs)

He’s standing there, in Hannibal’s office, like he has so many times before. There’s a comfort in it- not such that it creates a feeling of safety, he knows better than to feel safe around this man- but a feeling of clicking back into place after being away for so long. Of slipping back into their agreed upon roles, sitting down across from each other and playing civilized. Will paces slowly around the room, breathing in the warm air, the bittersweet taste of wine still hanging around on his tongue.

Hannibal looks over at him silently from where he’s perched at the edge of his desk. He’s taken his jacket off, still perfectly put together in his waistcoat and tie. It’s a casual elegance that Will both envies and resents. Hannibal is always smooth, at ease in his own skin, and so Will has to struggle and strive every second to convince the doctor that he is the same. He’s not so worried about his appearance, though he admits he’s tired of having to put so much work into his hair and clothes every day. It’s more that he’s become horribly aware of his physical body. Hold too much tension here, breathe too fast there, and it would all be over. It’s a gargantuan task trying to hide something from someone who studies people for a living.

So Will tries not to. He puts the thought of the deception out of his mind as much as he possibly can, instead trying to fully inhabit this new person he’s supposedly become. He strides across the floor as smoothly as possible, slowly inching his way ever closer to Hannibal. It’s a game they play often. They start the appointment off at a polite distance, each making a move further and further in like it’s a game of chicken. Orbiting each other like magnets ready to snap together at any moment. Will moves his piece across the board, finding his place next to that big rolling ladder and leaning his weight just slightly against it. He pretends not to notice when Hannibal rakes his eyes up and down his form when he does so.

“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal says. Oh, a classic. _This should be good_ , Will thinks. “Do you ever feel alone?” The question hangs in the air a moment as Will ponders it, bringing his hands back to rest against the rungs behind him.

“ _Alone_ ,” Will repeats. “Yes, I would say that I feel _alone_ more often than not. But that’s not the same thing as asking me if I’ve been feeling _lonely_ , Doctor.” Hannibal’s lips quirk up slightly and he breathes out a soft puff of air.

“Of course, my mistake. Then let me ask instead, _do_ you ever feel lonely?”

Will sighs and breaks the eye contact, staring somewhere off to the side. “Well I have my dogs. I have Jack, everyone at the FBI. I have no real reason to feel lonely.”

“I find that, often, our feelings do not wait for the appropriate reasons before they let themselves into our hearts. But you still did not answer my question, Will.”

Will hums thoughtfully. This is half of the fun of being with Hannibal. Little fencing matches of words, battling to see who can give away the least information while using the most words.

“I feel... _independent_.”

Hannibal tips his head down in a nod, not of agreement, but acknowledgement. He slowly drains the last of his wine- something sweet and fragrant- and sets the glass down on his desk, standing up.

“What about you, Doctor? Do you ever feel _lonely_?” At Will’s words, Hannibal begins to carefully approach him, and Will is suddenly reminded of a time when he was in this exact situation, though under very different circumstances. It feels like decades ago, being brought onto the Georgia Madchen case, pacing around this same office as he described to Hannibal the very thing he wanted to hear. He had leant up against this same ladder as the doctor came up to him, for a moment, the space between them so small.

But he’s not on the Georgia Machen case anymore, and he’s not the same person as he was back then, at least not around Hannibal.

“I don’t see any reason why I should feel lonely. I have friends, I have acquaintances. I have you, don’t I Will?” Hannibal stops his approach mere inches away from Will. “But I also find myself feeling… _unreasonable_ at times. Tell me, Will. Before, when you said you had no reason to be lonely, you referenced your dogs, your coworkers, your _friends_. Am I not worthy of being counted among the reasons you should not feel alone?”

Will had always been a great fisherman, and using himself as bait had never seemed as justified as it did now, with Hannibal swimming so, so close to the hook. One more pull and the man would be his.

“Do I… _have_ you, Hannibal?” Will met the other man’s eyes, icy cold and unwavering.

“You have me in the same way that I have you. However that may be.” Hannibal’s whisper sounded impossibly loud. Will straightened his spine, arching up and back in a way that made Hannibal’s shoulders tense. He was barely even speaking anymore, his words little more than breath escaping his lips.

“You can have me in any way you want.”

There was a split second of hesitation, then suddenly Hannibal was crashing forward into Will, their lips meeting in the middle. Hannibal’s hands went up, one to hold his face and one to tangle in his hair as he kissed Will desperately. Will melted in, his hands grasping onto the other’s shoulders as Hannibal pressed him back into the unrelenting wood behind him. Hannibal’s tongue pushed its way into his mouth and Will let his body make every needy noise it wanted, his chest rising and falling sporadically.

After a few blissful minutes, Hannibal pulled back and Will whined, missing the slick heat of his mouth for only a moment, as the doctor grabbed both of Will’s wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the ladder above his head. Hannibal’s mouth latched back onto him, plastering kisses across his jaw and trailing down to suck marks into the column of his throat.

“Do you think about me, Will?” Hannibal whispers in his ear in between bites. “In the middle of the night, when you’re feeling _lonely_?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Will gasps out.

“Tell me.” Hannibal goes back to marking him up and Will just whines. “ _Tell me_ ,” Hannibal demands again. “What do you imagine?”

“You,” he pants out. “Your hands.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” Without another word, Hannibal’s free hand is undoing his belt buckle, untucking his shirt to slide his hand up over Will’s chest and down to palm his erection through his slacks. Will bucks up into the sensation, a choked sound catching in his throat.

“What else,” Hannibal presses. Will can barely think through the cloud of sensation overtaking him.

“Your- _ngh_.”

“My what, Will?” Hannibal taunts, not letting up his relentless groping.

“Your desk!”

“Interesting,” he hums, dragging a slick kiss up the side of Will’s neck and nipping at his ear. “You imagine me fucking you over my desk?” Hearing Hannibal swear in that perfect, delicious accent _does something_ to Will and he lets out an embarrassingly loud moan. Hannibal chuckles lowly against his skin. “Now, I imagine it would take less than that, if your sounds are anything to go by. I wonder if I could make you cum just by talking to you like this. Should we try?” Those steely, dangerous eyes meet Will’s and he shivers.

“ _Please_.”

“Of course. Now, I would _love_ to see what you do to yourself when you’re all _alone_ like that, Will. I’d like to watch you take your cock into your hand.” Hannibal unbuttons his slacks, shoving them down to pull Will’s dick out. “Just like this. I would do everything you imagined, everything you asked of me.” Will’s legs go weak as Hannibal starts pumping him slowly, running his thumb down along the side and up over the tip.

“I would pin you down over my desk, ruin these nice clothes that you put on just for me. I would open you up slowly, no need to rush, fingering you, glancing your prostate over and over until you’re begging me to fuck you.”

“ _Mmh_ -” Will squirms under the doctor’s hands as he speeds up his strokes.

“Only when you started begging would I do it, and even then I would start slowly. Taking my cock out and making you take it inch by inch until I’m all of the way inside you. You would reach for me, try to speed me up, but I would take these beautiful arms and pin them behind your back.”

Will’s close, he’s so close when Hannibal brings his fingers to the base of his dick, squeezing and cutting his release off with the most exquisite agony.

“Now, Will,” Hannibal says, and suddenly, his wrists are being gripped tighter, his whole body trapped up against the ladder behind him. Will is truly pinned and more vulnerable than ever as Hannibal leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Before, you said I could have you in any way I wanted. You wouldn’t _lie_ to me, would you?” Despite the heat of the intimate position, Hannibal’s words are ice-cold, and the underlying threat makes Will’s heart beat even faster, if that’s even possible.

“No, no, _never_ \- Hannibal, I- You can have me, take me, _please_ , I’m _yours_.”

And that must have been the magic word, because Hannibal makes a sound akin to a growl, rolling his hips roughly against Will’s own, squeezing a choked moan out of him. He starts stroking Will again, faster and faster.

“Then I would take you in every way I could think of. I would take you slow and sweet, and then so fast and rough that I would have you squirming underneath me, begging for release.”

“H-Hannibal-”

“ _Beg_ , Will.”

“Please, _please_ , let me cum, I need to-”

“Cum.” Hannibal lets go of Will’s hands and he’s falling apart underneath him, pressing his face into the other man’s shoulder as he comes against both of them. He’s there for a moment, reveling in the afterglow, catching his breath as he’s slumped against his psychiatrist. Slowly, Hannibal starts to help him stand up again, brushing Will’s sweaty curls out of his face and pressing soft kisses to his temple. He returns Will to some semblance of being dressed, covered though disheveled as he is, and then begins to pull away.

“Wait,” Will breathes out, catching Hannibal’s wrist. “You didn’t-”

“Will, you are under no obligation to reciprocate right now, and I would be fine if-”

“I want to,” Will says bluntly, using their eye contact to his advantage. “Please.” After a moment, something in Hannibal relaxes and he nods. Will turns him around to lean against the ladder and then sinks to his knees in front of the other. Hannibal’s eyes darken as he moves forward to ghost his lips against the tented fabric in front of him, and Will takes his time, slowly undoing clothes to pull Hannibal’s hard dick out.

It’s daunting, never having done this before, especially when _Hannibal_ is the one he crosses this boundary with. Fitting, if he’s honest. Will moves forward, tentatively licking a bead of precome from the tip, preening when Hannibal makes a sound deep in his chest. Will takes it down as far as he can, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing his head slowly up and down. Hannibal threads a hand through his hair, gently guiding him and letting out low sounds. For just a moment, Hannibal’s grip on him tightens, and he locks his eyes onto Will. He slides his cock further and further into Will’s mouth until it’s hitting the back of his throat, blocking his airway. Hannibal holds his head down, watching Will’s eyes tear up as he chokes on it, before releasing him to take a gasping breath.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal breathes out, caressing Will’s face while he catches his breath for a moment before going back in. It doesn’t take much more after that, and soon enough, Hannibal is gripping Will by the hair, pulling him off to stroke his cock the rest of the way to completion, thick ropes of his come shooting out to land across Will’s face.

“Good boy,” Hannibal groans. Will feels dirty, he feels degraded, and he’s surprised by how _excited_ that makes him feel. Hannibal helps him back to his feet, kissing him deeply, like tasting himself on Will was better than every gourmet meal he’s ever prepared.

He cleans Will up and they both get dressed, tucking shirts back in and smoothing hair down as best as they can. At the door, Hannibal holds out his coat for him, and Will accepts, slipping one arm through, and then the other, unbothered by the way Hannibal’s hands linger on his shoulders far longer than they need to.

“Drive home safe, Will. I’ll see you at our next appointment.”

_Hook, line, and sinker._

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell i'm obsessed with the fishing metaphors lmaoo
> 
> this is the first thing i've written in five months, thank god for Hannibal NBC
> 
> thanks for reading!! xx


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